


Because No One Else is Worthy

by Caius



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Dooms without their armor on, I figure somewhere in the Marvel Comics multiverse, IDK what the hell continuities these guys are from, Implied large-scale violence, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doom meets Doom. Doom fights Doom. Doom talks to Doom. Doom shows off to Doom. </p><p>And then they have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because No One Else is Worthy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilacsigil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/gifts).



> At my [NC-17 Comment Fic Prompt Post](http://caiusmajor.dreamwidth.org/146862.html), [Lilacsigil](http://lilacsigil.dreamwidth.org/) prompted: "Doom/Doom because no-one else is good enough...but each Doom has to prove it."

They fight, at first. 

The battle ranges across two Earths, and is a nightmare of second-guessing and being second-guessed. The third time Doom arrives with his army to find Doom already there, almost the same army at his back, with the same plan, same posture, same glare on the same mask Doom laughs, and Doom laughs with him.

They declare an armistice. 

Conversation is a joy. No one in the universe (not since Richards, and Richards' mind for all its brilliance had been limited to the confines of pure science) could keep up with Doom except Doom, and they talked all day and all night, hardly aware of who finished a sentence and who started it, nothing but perfect understanding and compatibility. 

Doom dismisses everyone, and Doom even dismisses the Doombots: Doom does not need anyone else.

Doom shows Doom his castle, his inventions, his prizes; and Doom shows his own, in return; and here there are a few, tantalizing differences, where historical forces outside Doom's control have driven one Doom in different direction from another.

(But very few, Doom insists. Doom's destiny is Doom's alone.)

In a well-guarded room (it belongs to only one of them, but both Dooms know the passwords, the traps; and if there is anything that Doom does NOT know, Doom is not going to tell him), they examine each other's armor -- in their most intimate layers, they are similar, but not identical; Doom has marks from repairs that Doom does not; in other places Doom has reinforced his armor in protection from attacks Doom can extrapolate, but does not remember.

They are alone, and each Doom knows how to open Doom's armor; and Doom allows it. 

Alone, and naked, Doom forces himself to look at Doom's face. 

(The beautiful face was the same, but the scars that ruin it are not, and Doom swallows his questions at the look on Doom's face.)

The bodies are easier. Strong, scarred, functional -- with magical and cybernetic enhancements when necessary. Doom is beautiful, in his function, his power of magic and intellect, even here, naked, in Doom's bedroom.

Each Doom tries, initially, to lead the other Doom to the berth, press him down and spread above him; and when Doom realizes Doom had the same idea, Doom magnanimously attempts to yield.

They laugh, and lay on their sides, facing each other (they are, it turns out, mirror twins; so there is a logical placement, one on his left side, the other on his right). 

And they touch, bare skin against bare skin.

Even on Doom's own body, the touches are exploratory -- for Doom has little occasion to touch his own skin; there have been years where magic or automatic systems have relieved him from even the need of bathing -- but laid out before him, Doom's body is -- interesting.

And Doom's reactions become another sort of battle, as Doom touches Doom, and Doom Doom, competing to see who will be first to lose control. At first, as though by mutual consent, the touches stick to non-erogenous areas -- although even there, on Doom's back and arms and legs, the touch of another man, another sorcerer, another Doom, has Doom's soul and body alight with excitement, his rod hard and dripping with obsolete carnal instinct against Doom's.

One hand, just barely ahead of the other, strokes Doom's rod just a little from it's root to its tip; Doom, not to be outdone, takes Doom's firm posterior in both of his hands and pulls him closer, grinding their rods against each other.

Doom grunted and Doom felt a twitch in the rod against his. Doom tightened his hand around Doom's rod, grabbing Doom's as well. Doom lifted a leg up around Doom's -- one of the legs was warm living metal, the other of scarcely softer flesh. 

Doom looked up, at the same time as his counterpart, looking at Doom's ruined face, meeting Doom's eyes as, as with a final stroke and rut, Doom comes just a fraction before Doom.

"My victory," announced Doom. 

"Hardly," Doom said, although he pulled Doom over on top of him. "Doom has conquered Doom -- but not for long." 

"We shall see." Doom pressed a kiss down on Doom's lips; or perhaps, Doom pulled Doom down to kiss him.


End file.
